The Keeper of the Keys
by mivyevans18
Summary: In which literally no one knows what's happening - including the author. This is a re-vamp of midnightmusings29's story, 'Thank God the New Girl Came.' Read at your own risk. NOT Harry/OC, I like my Hinny, thanks.


**Prologue**

For the record, Ophelia Williams thought the whole thing was a dream. It couldn't have been possible – there was not a chance in this universe that this was _actually happening_. But here she was, sitting awkwardly as a bunch of strange people (it wasn't the right word, but Ophelia couldn't think of anything else) argued over whether or not they were going to war.

As she looked around the grand hall in which she was sitting, almost bored with the impossible-to-follow conversation, Ophelia noticed that not everyone was taking part in the fight. A 10 year-old girl and a 100-something woman were sitting at the other end of the table – the girl (Ophelia thought her name was Erised) looked vaguely exasperated and kept sighing as a new argument broke out. The woman looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep. Fabricius, the man responsible for her, was sat next to her, shaking his head sadly. On his other side, a dark woman (she'd said her name, but Ophelia couldn't for the life of her remember it) was watching the fight nervously, quill in her hand – she'd clearly given up taking notes when the fight started.

"It is very simple," an old man with a French accent was saying, his hand clenched in a fist. "We are _not_ getting involved in mortal affairs – that was the pledge we took when we joined the Order!"

As a "mortal" herself, Ophelia felt slightly offended by the general condescending view these people had. She still didn't quite understand all the facts, but it seemed a bit ridiculous.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," another woman was saying. "Those rules are 5,000 years old. It's time we started paying attention, helping! There are innocent people dying out there!" (Ophelia agreed with that bit.)

"Muggles, though," snapped another old man. "Muggles and mudbloods. And honestly, who cares about them? If anything, we should be helping the Riddle boy rid the world of their filth."

Outraged that anyone would say something like that, but remembering that Fabricius had warned her to keep her mouth shut, Ophelia fumed in silence. Fortunately, as she surveyed the room, this seemed to be an unpopular opinion. Most people were telling the man to shut up and sit down.

"Merwyn, if anyone listened to a thing you have to say, there'd be no one left on the damn planet," snapped a younger man with a thick accent. Ophelia thought it might be German. Maybe Dutch.

"Where's that wretched girl?" sneered an older, but pretty woman. She was maybe 30 or 40 with pale skin and brown hair. "She's late again."

"She's always late," said the little girl at the other end of the table. This was the first time Ophelia had heard her speak, and she was surprised at how low and melodious it was. "If you don't like it, take it up with her yourself."

Chastened, but still haughty, the woman sat, grumbling to her neighbor.

Fabricius stood, forcing the other members to sit – this, however, did not stop the mutinous whispers that filled the room. "As I was saying, before you all started arguing, we have a new member."

"You think we don't know that?" snapped a 40-something man. "400 years surrounded by these idiots, I noticed her the moment she walked in."

"Shut up, Philip, no one wants to hear you whine," said the woman who'd spoken earlier. Ophelia was grateful that this woman, at least, seemed likable.

"Well, get on with it," said a blond man, who had finally looked up from his book in vague interest. "Who is she?"

Fabricius sighed. "Thank you, Gulliver. This is Ophelia Williams – as of next month, she will be my replacement."

For the first time since Ophelia had entered the grand hall, there was absolute silence. Then a man started laughing. "What? Her? How old is she, 18? She is going to be the new Keeper?" It was French Accent. Ophelia decided she didn't like his tone.

"Yes, Alphonse, and I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, because no one gives a rat's arse," replied Fabricius pleasantly.

"You believe this little girl can do your job?" said French-Accent Alphonse. "You are stupider than I thought."

Ophelia couldn't help but agree with him – not only did she have no idea what the "job" Fabricius wanted her to do was, she barely had a clue what was happening around her. She half-expected to wake up in the tiny cot she napped on in St. Mungo's. That had been the last place things had made any sense.

Fabricius opened his mouth, probably to make a witty retort (as he seemed to enjoy), when the doors banged open and a young girl strode in. The change in the room's atmosphere was immediate and terrifying. The angry, but friendly feeling that Ophelia had been comforted by faded away as soon as the group saw the girl.

She was young – no older than 13 or 14 – and she was beautiful. She had the pale, unblemished skin that Ophelia had spent hundreds of galleons and hours trying to replicate, and her hair was like molten gold. Ophelia tucked her own mousy brown hair behind her ear self-consciously. But her clothes were burned and charred, her lip was badly cut, and her eyes looked sharp enough to cut through steel. It took Ophelia a moment to place the feeling that swept through the room as the girl fixed her sharp-as-diamonds eyes on each of them in turn - fear. All these old people were terrified of this young girl. Ophelia almost laughed at the ludicrous idea, but the deafening silence held her tongue.

"Erised," said the girl calmly, her voice as beautiful and sharp as her eyes. "Have I missed anything?"

The entire party, Ophelia included, turned to look at the little girl at the end of the table. The girl, Erised, seemed to be the only one unaffected by the uncomfortable silence (excepting the old woman next to her, who looked as though she'd actually fallen asleep). "Oh, not much," began Erised, amusement in her every pore. "The others have been debating whether or not to go to war. There's a new girl, she's replacing Fabricius next month. I daresay your entrance was the most dramatic thing that's happened."

Ophelia was a bit offended that the Erised girl considered the blonde girl's entrance more dramatic and exciting than Ophelia's recruitment into this…whatever this was. To be fair, though, the blonde girl did seem to have a flair for it, and the most dramatic thing Ophelia had ever done was her actual birth.

_Just wake up, _thought Ophelia frantically as the girl began talking. _Just go back to St. Mungo's, back to your internship, back to the war, back to your normal life…_

"There's been no evidence as to who killed the McDonald girl, and although I've confirmed that it was definitely my curse, I don't know who performed it, where the idiot learned it, or if it's been taught to anyone else…."

_Come on, Ophelia, St. Mungo's. You're just an intern, you're just here to help with the damage from the war. You're an American, you're not involved in this – wake up!_

"I've heard you've been killing every Death Eater you see, girl. What happened to staying out of warfare?"

"Oh, shut up, Maria, now is not the moment."

_Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

"It _should _be!" screeched the Maria woman, standing abruptly, her gaze filled with fire and hate. "You've been trotting around the world for ages, finding new 'causes' to get yourself involved in and lose yourself in battle. We're not supposed to be in wars, you stupid little peasant!" Ophelia couldn't help but snort at the use of the word 'peasant.'

"Good Lord, you sound like my mother," said the girl, her posture relaxed, but her eyes full of anger and promises of revenge. "If you don't like the way I act, then please, feel free to stop me."

"We're not supposed to have to stop you," said another man, Merwyn. He seemed to have taken Maria's side. "You took the pledge to not get involved in wars or mortal affairs, just like the rest of us. We've let you do what you will, simply because none of the ridiculous half-wits you've been off fighting for – or against, none of us really know or care – are important to us, but…"

"This one's different," said yet another old man. Many of the others groaned, but the man simply sneered at them. He had such a greasy voice that Ophelia felt the need to shower. "I quite like the Riddle boy. He's finally taking the initiative to rid the world of the muggle disease. Why not fight for Riddle?" This was met with more groans that the man pointedly ignored.

"The only disease I can think of is you three," said the likable woman from earlier. The blonde looked surprised. "I think Alecta's right. And we're certainly not fighting for Riddle, so you can forget that idea right now."

"Stuff a cork in it, Miranda. You're in no position to decide that."

"The clear answer is to stay out of the war completely!" French-Accent Alphonse broke in suddenly, his second chin jiggling unpleasantly.

"Well, this is all lovely," said the woman next to Fabricius, "but I think the first order of business is to decide what to do about Alecta's curse before we spend the next 3 months debating the unanswerable question."

This was met with several sighs of relief. Maria, Merwyn, and the other man sat unhappily, and Alecta took her seat next to Erised. The blond Gulliver returned to his book.

"All right, Melody," said Alecta, signaling that the conversation was by no means over, "what do you think I should do?"

"Well, clearly, you have failed at your attempts," came an unpleasant voice. "What we should do is send someone else to track down your runaway curse. Perhaps they will have more luck."

"Absolutely not," said Alecta.

"I like the idea," said Maria, her brown eyes dancing. "Someone a bit more…qualified should go. You can run back to Romania for another 300 years and play with your dragon friends."

"Qualified?" snapped Alecta, who looked on the verge of cursing someone.

"There is no one more qualified than Alecta to track down this curse," said Fabricius calmly. "Certainly not you, Maria."

Alecta let out a musical laugh and Maria glared at Fabricius. "I'm only saying, Fabricius, that I don't trust Alecta to go alone to the thick of the war and not get herself involved. You all remember the French Revolution."

Alecta abruptly stopped laughing. "If I remember correctly, it was your sister who began the whole thing with her brainless –"

"You had my sister beheaded!" shrieked Maria.

"Can't claim the pleasure, as I've told you a hundred times," responded Alecta. "I can, however, claim responsibility for the _amazing _party that started after we heard. It was almost _magical_."

"Both of you, knock it off!" said a stern red-headed witch.

"Thank you, Alberta," said Fabricius wearily. Ophelia got the feeling that these two argued often.

"Maria makes a good point, however," continued Alberta. "Alecta certainly can't be trusted to hunt down a curse in the middle of a war without taking a side. I've heard she's started running around with the Black boy, taking missions from the Order of the Phoenix."

"The what?" said the unpleasant man who had suggested that Alecta give her job to someone else.

"Albus Dumbledore's anti-Riddle army. Though I believe he's started calling himself Voldemort."

"And you say you're not getting yourself involved!" accused Maria.

"I never said that, you filthy hunchback," snapped Alecta. "No offense, Grunhilda."

An old woman near Maria rolled her eyes, but nodded.

"Who have you been running around with?" asked the handsome young man with the German accent.

"His name's Sirius Black, not that it's any of your business," said Alecta. "He's been helping me find the curse – he was in love with the girl who was killed."

Sirius Black? Finding a curse? Ophelia's head was swimming. "Sorry," she said before she could stop herself, "but what's going on?"

Everyone stopped and stared at her. The old woman asleep at the end of the table woke with a start. Gulliver actually closed his book on his nose.

"Who's she?" asked Alecta suddenly.

"I told you, she's the new girl replacing Fabricius," said Erised. "Do you just not listen to me?"

"Never," replied Alecta. "What's your name?" This last was directed at Ophelia herself.

"Uh, I'm Ophelia. Ophelia Williams."

"You're American!" said Maria, clearly displeased.

"Yeah."

"Are you even a witch?" asked the greasy man.

"Of course she's a witch, Herpo, you dullard," said Erised.

"I'm from the Salem Witches Institute in Massachusetts," explained Ophelia.

"What are you doing in England?" asked Handsome German Guy.

"I'm a Healer-in-training, so I came to work at St. Mungo's. I just help, of course, but with all the injured being brought in, they need all the help they can get."

"What's your specialty?" asked Alecta.

"Uh, animal bites and poisons," said Ophelia, tucking hair behind her ear. "We've had lots of problems with werewolves, what with Fenrir Greyback on the loose…"

"How old are you?"

"21," said Ophelia uncomfortably. "Look, I don't really understand what's going on here, so if someone could explain something to me –"

"Did you tell the poor girl anything?" asked a kindly looking man across the table from French-Accent Alphonse.

Fabricius suddenly looked awkward. "Well, I'm not very good at the whole introduction bit…"

"What'd you do, pick her up from St. Mungo's and bring her here?"

Ophelia nodded.

"Sweet Merlin, Fabricius!" said the dark woman, Melody, next to him. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Let's get on with it!" said Fabricius, looking as uncomfortable as Ophelia felt. "You can explain it to her afterwards. I want to know what we're going to do about Alecta."

An hour later, after Alecta had bitterly fought for her right to continue looking for her curse (whatever that meant) and won by the skin of her teeth (Ophelia thought this probably had more to do with the fact that everyone was afraid of Alecta than her actual arguments), Melody gave her final rundown of the actions in the meeting before she could end the thing. The old woman sitting next to Erised had fallen asleep again. Gulliver had finished his book and had been obnoxiously counting the number of stars on the ceiling for the past 15 minutes (he kept losing his place and starting over). Maria and the greasy man (Erised had called him Herpo) were passing each other notes, likely complaining about the meeting. Just about everyone else surrounding the table was drunk.

Finally, _finally_, Melody told everyone to get out before she hexed them all, leaving only Erised, Alecta, the sleeping woman, Fabricius, Ophelia, and Melody herself. Erised and Alecta were talking and laughing like old friends, completely ignoring the sleeping woman and the other group.

Melody turned to Ophelia suddenly, seemingly unaware of the two girls. "Hello, Ophelia," she said, her British accent clear. "Welcome to England. I'm Melody Bonham."

"Uh, hi," said Ophelia, holding out her hand. They shook hands, Melody's grip as kind as her eyes. "Could you, um, maybe answer a few questions for me? I'm pretty confused."

"Absolutely," said Melody. "Sorry about Fabricius. He's quite useless when it comes to explaining things. How'd he get you out of St. Mungo's, anyway?" With this, Fabricius scoffed, shook his head, and said he was off to look for some Firewhiskey.

"I was walking through London looking for some coffee," said Ophelia, remembering the morning with perfect clarity. "I took a few wrong turns because these idiots can't drive – sorry," she added, remembering who she was talking to. Melody laughed and motioned for her to continue. "I got stuck at a crosswalk, and I looked across the street, and Fabricius was standing there, just staring at me. He really freaked me out, so I turned the other way – that ended up being good, I found the coffee shop, and I suppose he must have followed me, though I didn't know it at the time. That was a week ago." Ophelia paused thoughtfully. "Then, this morning, I was working and I got called to the director's office. And he was there." That wasn't technically true. She'd actually been napping. "The director said that I was being sent to another program and that Fabricius was going to bring me."

"I've got to make Fabricius stop using the Imperius Curse on people," said Melody wearily.

"_What_?"

"Don't worry, we're not Death Eaters."

"I didn't – _what_?" Ophelia had never considered the possibility that these people were Death Eaters. Was she about to be killed? "He – he told me to get my stuff and when we got outside, he just grabbed my arm and Disapparated. I'm not a very powerful witch, okay, so when we got here I knew I couldn't…couldn't – Are you guys going to kill me?"

"_Kill_ you?" repeated Melody, looking surprised. "Good heavens, is that the impression we're giving off? No, we're not going to kill you."

"Who _are _you people? What's going on? What am I doing here?"

"Well, that's a long story," said Melody, her voice tired. "I suppose it begins with the forging of the first magical artifact, almost 7,000 years ago."

"A magical artifact?" asked Ophelia, who had no idea what a magical artifact had to do with her questions.

"Mm," said Melody. "The Mirror of Erised. A mirror that could show you your deepest and most desperate desires. The mirror is enchanted to show the same message in every language that has ever or will ever be written."

"Okay, sure," said Ophelia. She, like every other magical student, had learned about the Mirror of Erised in her History of Magic class. "But – "

"She was the first," said Melody, ignoring Ophelia. "The first in a powerful group of witches and wizards that have been around as long as there has been magic."

"She? You mean –" Almost unwillingly, Ophelia turned to where Alecta and Erised were still talking. She turned back quickly. "You're joking. The little girl?"

Melody nodded.

"What, are you actually kidding? There's no way that little girl is – you're insane! There's never been a shred of proof that the Mirror of Erised was actually a living person!"

"She isn't a living person. She is the embodiment of the magic contained in the mirror. I daresay she can choose to look like just about anything."

"That is crazy. I don't believe you." Clearly, these people had gone off the deep end. Ophelia looked for an escape route, but continued to listen, since her chances didn't seem very good.

"Over the years, more people have joined the Order –"

"The Order?"

"The Order, the Immortal Order, the Order of the Everlasting Age, whatever you want to call it," said Melody, a bit impatiently. "It's where all the known Immortals come to discuss the dangers of the current world affairs, seek out new Immortals, take action. It's how we survive."

Forget the deep end, these people were halfway to China. "Immortals."

Melody gave her a knowing look. "I told you my name, didn't I?"

"Sure. Melody Bonham."

"And that name doesn't mean anything to you?"

"No. Should it?"

"You work at St. Mungo's, don't you? I'd like to think you know the name of its founder."

"Yeah, _Mungo_ Bonham," said Ophelia, grasping at sanity.

"That would be my father."

Ophelia was shocked into speechlessness. This woman had to realize that Mungo Bonham had lived hundreds of years ago, and therefore _couldn't _be her father. "You do know –"

"That Mungo Bonham lived four-hundred years ago? Yes. So do I."

"So, then, you _can't _be his daughter. It's just not possible."

Melody regarded her thoughtfully. "Ophelia, do you know how to cast a Killing Curse?"

"I know the theory," said Ophelia said suspiciously, not liking the turn the conversation had taken.

"Good. I want you to hit me with a Killing Curse."

"_Excuse me_?" Ophelia couldn't believe her ears. There was no way, no possible way, that this woman had just asked her to –

"Kill me. You won't believe me otherwise."

"You are insane and I am _not_ going to do that."

"Fine," said Melody. "Oi, Alecta!" When Alecta looked up, she said, "Would you hit me with a Killing Curse, please?"

"She doesn't believe you, huh?"

"Not even a little."

"All right," said Alecta, raising her wand.

"Okay, I believe you!" shrieked Ophelia, trying to stop the inevitable death. "You don't have to do that! I believe you!"

"Relax, I'll be fine," said Melody, as Alecta shouted, '_Avada Kedavra_!' Ophelia watched in horror as the green light hit Melody and she crumpled to the floor.

"Oh my God!" shrieked Ophelia. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, she's dead!" She felt for a pulse and found nothing. "You _killed_ her!"

"Give it a minute," said Alecta, unconcerned. She returned to her conversation with Erised as though she hadn't just killed an innocent woman.

Ophelia was on the verge of hyperventilation. This was _crazy_. How could she have possibly done that, just to prove a –?

"Next time, could you give me a pillow or something? My back's killing me."

Ophelia's body went numb as the woman who had _definitely _just been dead opened her eyes and stood up, rubbing her butt. "No," breathed Ophelia, reaching for her wand. "No way. Not a chance." She poked Melody with it.

"What _are_ you doing?"

Hesitantly, Ophelia raised her wand. It had to have been a trick. But it _wasn't_, she'd felt the lack of pulse _herself_… "_Avada Kedavra_!" she shrieked, pointing her wand at Melody. The woman crumpled again, her eyes open in surprise. Ophelia knew – that had been the real curse, a real death. If she came back to life, she was telling the truth. If she didn't, Ophelia had officially murdered a woman.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" said Melody in surprise, springing up again. "You actually winded me!"

"Okay," said Ophelia uncertainly, shocked beyond any form of speech. "Okay. I believe you."

"Fantastic," said Melody, clapping her on the shoulder. "I knew you'd come around."

"But still, it doesn't make any sense. How did you become Immortal?"

"The same way everyone else here became Immortal and the way you'll become Immortal. I died."

"Pardon?"

"I died. A building caught fire and I died trying to get everyone out." Melody paused, shaking off the memory. "I woke up in a huge, white room. It looks different to everyone, you know – some people said it looks like a train station, some an entrance hall, others a church. You walk – for hours, it feels like, and eventually, you come to two massive doors."

Erised and Alecta had stopped talking and were watching the two curiously.

"The door on your right is the door to your favorite place in the world – the place where you've experienced some of the best moments of your life. The door on your left leads to the place where you're most afraid. Where you were sent when you were punished, a place that held fear for you as a child, anything really, that's what's there. The single worst place you can think of. And in front of those two doors, someone will be waiting for you."

"Someone?" Ophelia couldn't help herself.

"That's what's different for us. Regular people see someone they loved when they were alive. Someone who influenced them, someone they cared for. The person we consider one of the most important parts of our lives. That person judges them based on what they did while they were alive, and then escorts them to one of the doors."

"So the doors are –"

"Heaven and Hell are the easiest terms, yes. Some people just call it 'the After.' We don't know what's behind the doors, never been. Immortals have only ever been to the room where they wake up."

"So what's different for you? Us? Immortals in general?"

"When we reached the doors, the person waiting for us was someone we'd never seen before," said Melody sadly. "Someone we didn't know. I saw a 30-year old man I'd never met."

"And what does it mean?"

"It means our time isn't over. We aren't ready to move on. We haven't done all we need to do. So we're sent back here, Immortal, never aging, until we find the person we're looking for."

"The person you saw when you died?"

"Exactly. When Fabricius died, he saw you, the way you looked a week ago when you were trying to find your coffee shop."

"So, Fabricius has been kept alive for…how long?"

Melody wrinkled her nose. "About 2,000 years, give or take. He's originally from Ancient Rome. He died in the Fires of Alexandria, saving some of the ancient works."

"So you're saying Fabricius has been waiting _2,000_ years for me?" That couldn't possibly be true. "But _why?_"

"He hasn't just been waiting for you, you know," said Melody. "You, Fabricius, and I, we're not like other Immortals. Most Immortals travel the world seeking the person they saw, getting in trouble, generally being nuisances. Not us. We're Keepers of the Immortal Knowledge. We're responsible for making sure that the rules are followed, that our existence is still a secret, that each meeting is recorded and kept safe, so that in a 1,000 years' time, when most of us are gone, we can draw on our old knowledge and learn from our past mistakes. We also work with taking in and cataloguing lost works, so Immortals can use them to improve."

"Who'd you take over for, then?"

"Merlin."

"_Merlin_? Holy hell, Melody. You mean, when Merlin died, he saw you?"

"Yes. He picked me out at my father's 63rd birthday party."

"But that doesn't make any sense," argued Ophelia. "How could Merlin have picked you out at a crowded party? For that matter, how could Fabricius've possibly recognized me? There were a thousand, two thousand people there."

"The image of the person we're seeking is burned into our memory. If we see you, even for a second, we'll know you. You'll understand once you're dead."

Ophelia did not like how Melody kept saying that to her.

"Would you stop telling her that? Bloody hell, you're scaring me!" Alecta stood and walked over to the two women, leaving Erised to try to wake the now fast-asleep woman.

"So, who're you, then?" asked Ophelia, feeling panicky at her presence. "Cornelius Agrippa's cousin? Armando Dippet's sister? Phyllida Spore's aunt?"

"No," said Alecta, amused. "I'm Alecta Gryffindor, Godric Gryffindor's daughter."

Ophelia's jaw went slack. "I give up. Where's the exit?"

Alecta laughed. "I've got to get back," she said to Melody. "Sirius's been put in charge of the Weasley children for the night, and he needs my help."

"Alecta, really – don't get too involved in the war. One more foot out of line, and Maria'll start offering Riddle her services."

"Yeah, I know," said Alecta grumpily. "She never shuts up, that one. And I thought we were home-free when Queen Maeve finally found Anne Boleyn. I hate working with royalty." Alecta turned and walked out the door, vanishing behind an ancient tapestry.

"Royalty?" asked Ophelia.

"Hmm? Oh, you might not have recognized her. The woman arguing with Alecta was Duchess Maria Amalia, one of Queen Maria Theresa's daughters," explained Melody.

"How many of you _are _there?"

"23, we think," said Melody. "I don't think we've found everyone, and we've never even tried to figure out if any Muggles are Immortal, too. Merwyn'd have a heart attack." This idea seemed to please her. "6 members weren't here tonight – I don't know where Falco was, but he spends more time as a falcon than a human these days, he almost never shows. Gifford and Jasper are searching Asia for Quang, he's been missing for almost 22 years – don't worry, that's not long for us," she added, as Ophelia opened her mouth. "Ptolemy's ill, again. Honestly, the man dies more from illness than anyone I've ever met. And Bridget – well, Bridget's a bit of a scatterbrain, actually, so she probably mixed her dates up again or wrote her reminders in invisible ink. Happens all the time."

"So, who was here?" asked Ophelia, desperately trying to follow the conversation and keep the names in her head.

"Well, you and I, of course, though you're not technically immortal yet. Then you've got Fabricius, he's the other Keeper. Erised and Lady Pythia, they're Keepers of the Everlasting Age –"

"What's that?"

"It's a really fancy title for a really annoying job. They basically sit and tell us everything we do is wrong and remind us of the Order's rules. Although, Pythia sleeps most of the time, I don't know why she bothers showing up. She's the Oracle of Delphi, in case you didn't know."

"I… wow, no, not at all…"

"Let's see, then there's Grunhilda, she's nice enough, not an attractive one, unfortunately, Alphonse, who's annoying but harmless, Herpo, Merwyn, and Maria Amalia, they're nasty pieces of work, each one worse than the last, Johann Weyer, he was Agrippa's student – he's good-looking, but he's a little creepy. Alberta Toothill, she's intimidating, and she's obsessed with getting Alecta to duel her, then you've got Ignatia Wildsmith, you've heard of her, she invented floo powder. Nice enough, bit difficult to understand, obsessed with inventing. We've had to put out more than a few fires because of her, figuratively and literally. Oh, then Miranda Goshawk, she wrote the Standard Book of Spells, completely mad but excellent fun. I love her. Beaumont Majoribanks, he's a Herbology guy, nice, but more interested in plants than people."

Ophelia thought her head might explode.

"Philip, though the history books call him Paracelsus, is your standard grumpy old man. Hates everything, but loves complaining, and you'll never quite know what side he's on. Gulliver Pokeby, he's done a bunch of stuff with magical birds, and he's pretty smart, but he's so bloody annoying. Counting the stars on the ceiling in the middle of a meeting, I ask you! And last, but not least, you've got Alecta. She's the most powerful of us all, no doubt, but she's absolutely unreliable. Her emotions rule her head completely, she's impossible to reason with. Don't know what we're going to do with her." She took a breath, watching Ophelia's eyes go wider and wider. "Don't worry, that's just the basics. Fabricius will teach you all he can before you take over."

"I am not going to remember this."

"No one expects you to," said Melody comfortingly. "Any more questions?"

_Only about a million._ "What were you all talking about, with Alecta and finding a curse? And who is Sirius Black?"

Melody grimaced. "You do know about the war, and I bet you've gathered that we're deciding whether or not to take part."

"Okay, but you guys are old and powerful, right? You could defeat Voldemort!"

"Of course we _could_," said Melody, looking a bit offended. "It's not a matter of being able to. As you can see, Maria, Merwyn, and Herpo will go to join Riddle. And I believe Alberta and Philip might, too."

"And you can't do it without them?"

"You don't get it, do you?" When Ophelia shook her head, Melody continued. "We don't die. Ever. Like I showed you, we can hit with Killing Curse after Killing Curse and it won't stop us. We get angry and go to war, we'll never stop. We don't get old, we don't die, only Ptolemy ever gets sick. And we are powerful, Ophelia. We go to war against each other… well, the last time it wasn't pretty."

"What happened?"

"We, er, we destroyed Rome."

"_What_?"

"And now you understand why it _can't happen again_. If Alecta and Miranda and Ignatia go to war against Maria, Merwyn, and Herpo – forget Voldemort. I don't think Britain will survive."

"So what's Alecta doing, then?"

"She's searching for a curse."

"I understand _that_, but what does it mean?"

"The instructions and incantation for a particularly nasty curse Alecta invented went missing about a year ago. Alecta was given the right to track down the person who stole her curse and, well, do something particularly nasty and probably lethal in exchange. About 8 months ago, the body of a girl arrived at St. Mungo's that bore the wounds of her curse. She started tracking the curse from there. Then she got involved with the Order of the Phoenix."

"The anti-Riddle army."

"Yes. You have to understand. Alecta's old, but she still has the mind of a 14 year old girl. She's ruled by her emotions. She gets caught up in issues she cares about, like this war, and then attacks with her centuries-old ferocity. Dumbledore asked her to help and she said yes, which she's definitely not supposed to do. Maria's furious with her, but Alecta technically hasn't broken any rules yet. She only kills Death Eaters that get in her way, but since she's part of the Order of the Phoenix, _every_ Death Eater gets in her way."

"That's quite the loophole," said Ophelia, giving Alecta a new level of respect for her sly thinking. "So I get what you mean about tracking the curse, but what's with this Sirius Black guy?"

"He's her partner. He's 20, and he's just as headstrong and ridiculously idealistic as her. She likes him too much, and it's going to put them both in danger. Maria's accusing her of stalling and avoiding finding the curse –I agree with her, but I'll rather be drawn and quartered than tell her that. Alecta's got to hurry up, because if this drags out much longer, it won't be pretty." Melody fixed her with a piercing look. "You have to understand, Ophelia, the precarious peace between the Immortals is held only by the agreement we won't go to war against each other. If that fails, the results will be disastrous. Voldemort is nothing, he'll come and go, he'll rise and fall, but the Immortals stick around for a long time. And they don't forgive. And they never forget."

"Ophelia! Wake up!"

Ophelia groaned and dug her head deeper into her pillow. "Yeah, I got it, Jasper Bamberg's the necromancer, and Johann Weyer works with the demons. Can't you quiz me in the morning?"

"Ophelia! Up! Now!"

Ophelia pushed herself up off her tiny cot and glanced blearily around the vast library, cursing the bizarre sleeping patterns of the people she'd been stuck with. In 10 days she'd inherit Fabricius's job, and thus, his more comfortable furniture, but until then she was stuck with this roll-away cot and the portable toiletry kit. As she raised her wand to summon her glasses, she remembered Melody's warning that magic didn't work in the library. With yet another moan, she crashed to the floor and groped around the bedside table (which was an empty shelf) for her glasses and her flashlight. Dressed in pajama bottoms and her ex-boyfriend's sweater, she set off through the library, searching for the man who was (literally) going to be the death of her.

About 30 seconds after this encouraging thought, the screaming started. Ophelia jumped about 10 feet in the air, dropped her flashlight, and began flat-out running towards the source of the noise. Her wand in her hand (which made her feel better, despite the fact it wouldn't work), she tore through the shelves of lost art, looking for the screamer, who had begun sobbing. When she finally found the lit area, the scene before her was so strange, Ophelia almost went back to bed.

Alecta Gryffindor was being physically restrained by Melody and an unfamiliar woman – they were holding her arms, keeping her away from Fabricius, who was gasping for air.

"Let _go of me_, Erised!" shrieked Alecta, batting at the two women, who were clearly holding for dear life. Gone was the calm, sly, amused girl of before; she had been replaced by a horrifying, desperate monster that looked ready to kill anything that moved. Ophelia got the feeling that the only reason the two woman had the upper hand was because Alecta couldn't use her magic.

"What, and let you do something insanely stupid? Not a chance," said the unfamiliar woman in Erised's voice.

"He _betrayed me_!" screeched Alecta, her voice inhuman. "I trusted you! I trusted to keep my magic safe! I trusted you to help me! And _what did you do_? You _gambled it away_!"

Ophelia could definitively say that this was the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen. Alecta's face was wild, crazed with an anger and pain that did not match up with Alecta's usual dealings with Fabricius. "What happened, Alecta?" Her voice was so soft she was surprised Alecta had heard her at all. Somehow, she knew what she had to say. "What happened to Sirius?"

At 'Sirius,' all the fight left Alecta. She slumped to the ground, curling into herself. But the tears had stopped. "He's gone," she said, almost to herself. Ophelia had to take a few steps in closer to hear. "He's gone to Azkaban. And they won't let me help him."

"What happened?"

"James and Lily. They're dead." Over Alecta's still form, Melody mouthed, 'Sirius's friends.' "The Ministry thinks he's responsible, because he was their Secret-Keeper, helping them hide from Voldemort. But they don't know! They switched, Sirius and Peter, they switched because Sirius thought they wouldn't go after Peter! But Peter was working for Voldemort and he told him and he killed them both and now they _won't let me help Sirius_!"

"He killed Pettigrew, and 13 other Muggles!" said Melody, who clearly thought Alecta was out of her mind.

"It's not true!" shrieked Alecta. "It was Peter, I know it was, but I don't know how or where to find him! And I went to Dumbledore and told him I would take Harry, but he said I couldn't, that I wasn't capable of raising a child, that Harry was going to live with family!" Ophelia had to agree with the unknown Dumbledore. This girl was powerful and brave and intelligent, but she was definitely not a mother.

"Okay, okay," said Ophelia soothingly. "I understand. But why can't we help her break him out of jail?" This was more to Erised and Melody.

Erised pursed her lips. "Because he knows."

"Knows what?"

"Who she is!" exploded Erised. "She told him _everything_ – who she is, how she's here, that she's waiting for someone, the whole shabang." Ophelia made a mental note to never let Erised say the word 'shabang' ever again. "He's dangerous to us and I don't want him out where he can let something slip. He's staying right where he is. I told her getting involved was a bad idea," she added, glancing down at where Alecta was lying, curled up on the floor pitifully, eyes glazed over.

"Besides, the Ministry finding out that there are people who can break someone out of Azkaban is bad for our safety," said Melody. "I'm not risking the anonymity we've kept for nearly 5,000 years for Alecta's newest boyfriend. She'll move on, she always does."

"I still don't understand – why is she here? Why is she trying to kill Fabricius?"

Both women looked angry now. "It was him," spat Erised, stalking over to where Fabricius was still on the floor. "He gambled away the curse that Alecta was tracking down. Snuck in like a thief in the night and just gave one of the world's most dangerous curses away."

"You're kidding," said Ophelia. She stared at Fabricius. "Tell me they're kidding."

"What can I say to you?" said Fabricius. "I had no money. I lost a bet. It was that or expose our secret."

"You shouldn't've been gambling with money you didn't have!" snapped Erised. "Look at what you've done to her! You've ruined her!"

"What are you going to do?" asked Ophelia, voice shaking.

For a moment, Erised looked uncertain. Then she straightened, her expression clearing, her eyes hardening. "He's got to go."

"Go? Go where?" asked Ophelia stupidly. Erised gave her a look that told her everything she needed to know. "No! We can't just kill him!"

Fabricius's head snapped up. Even Melody looked shocked. Alecta didn't appear to have heard.

"What do you propose we do?" asked Erised. "We let him go? Out there where he can use magic and gamble away the rest of our library? Do you know the destruction that would cause?"

"But he's mortal now, he can't –"

"You're here, aren't you? Mortals can get in here just like anyone else. And he knows where it is. No, he's got to go. Now."

"Melody, come on!" Ophelia pleaded.

"She's right, Ophelia," said Melody in a tone that told Ophelia she didn't like it any more than Ophelia did. "He's dangerous. Our safety is too important to let this go."

"But you can't just –"

"When I took the pledge to be an Immortal, I swore I'd protect the others," said Erised sternly. "You don't have to stay. Take Alecta and go to Melody's room. I'll come for you." She pulled a dagger out of her sleeve, and Fabricius finally seemed to realize that Erised was serious. That Melody had the stomach for it. That Ophelia was not going to convince them to stop.

Then the pleading started.

Ophelia knew she should stay and be brave, try to convince the two that killing was not the way to solve the problem, but she took one look at Alecta's devastated face and decided that this time, at least, she would let it go. She pulled the young girl up by her arms and herded her out of the room. She tried to close her ears to Fabricius's pleas and eventually the sounds of the dead man walking died away.

"By the way," Ophelia said, almost as an afterthought, "who is Harry?"

Alecta's expression lit up a bit. "He's James and Lily's son. Harry Potter. Lily asked me to take care of him, you know, in case they…" She trailed off unhappily.

I'm sorry," said Ophelia, since she didn't know what else she could say.

"It was the best time of my life, did you know?" said Alecta, sniffling a bit. "The others, it was all about fighting and winning and glory, but with those three, it was different. It was friendship! They were my friends. I haven't – not since…" Here, she trailed off again.

"Not since who?"

"Ben and Hailey. My first friends. Back when I was mortal. They died trying to save my life," she said, opening the door to Melody's room. "I'd never felt anything like how I felt with those two – alive and happy. Until Sirius. Until Lily and James."

"Wait," said Ophelia, mightily confused. "So you and Sirius, you weren't…?"

"Together?" finished Alecta, cracking a smile. "No. Though not for lack of trying on James and Lily's part."

Ophelia laughed, and the two lapsed into comfortable silence, Alecta curled up on Melody's bed. But Ophelia had more questions. "If you weren't supposed to tell anyone who you are, how did convince them to trust you?"

"That was mostly Dumbledore," said Alecta comfortably. "He gave me a fake name and everything. For all intents and purposes, I was Sarah Bennett, the daughter of a family friend who had come to help."

"And they believed you?"

Alecta shrugged. "No reason not to, I suppose." She chuckled suddenly. "Did you know, Sarah Bennett was from Romania? My aliases always have something to do with Romania. Probably because of the dragons."

"The dragons?"

"Didn't they tell you?" said Alecta, uncurling a bit. "I talk to dragons."

Ophelia spun around. "You _what_?"

"Long story. My dad taught me how, but I was pretty useless. Didn't get the hang of it until 50 years after he'd died. Dragons don't speak the way we do, see. Thy think in pictures. They kind of show you what they want in pictures and you have to respond in pictures."

Ophelia took up post on Melody's cushy armchair and tried to think of something interesting to say. Thankfully, before the silence grew too painful, the door burst open and Melody stumbled in. She made a beeline for the bathroom and before long, the room was full of the sound of Melody throwing up whatever was in her stomach.

"That bad, huh?" asked Alecta, almost smiling as Melody stumbled out of the bathroom, white as a sheet.

"I'll never do it again," gasped Melody. "Never. It was the absolute worst thing I've ever had to do. I'm a Healer, I'm meant to fix people, not….that." She gestured wildly at the door. "I don't know how you do it, Alecta."

Alecta regarded her thoughtfully. "Sometimes, I don't know how I do it either."

"Don't let her fool you," came Erised's voice. The little girl from Ophelia's first meeting walked in. "She never even touched the knife."

"I had to help you carry it outside so I could transfigure it for you!" groaned Melody, holding her stomach and scrunching up her mouth. She seemed unwilling to say, 'the body.' "It was horrific!"

"I don't understand why you have to talk like I made you commit genocide," said Erised, rolling her eyes. Ophelia shook her head, glad she had missed it. "Forget that, we have a new problem."

"_Another_ problem?" Ophelia didn't think she could handle another problem.

"We need a new Keeper."

"I thought Ophelia was the new Keeper!" said Alecta, sitting up.

"Yes, she is, but she's a mortal," said Erised calmly. "If she wants to become Keeper, she'll have to –"

"What, _kill myself_?"

"Or have someone else do it for you," said Erised, as though this was a perfectly normal conversation.

"Erised, you can't ask her to do that –"

"She might not be ready, she's only a kid." Melody turned to Ophelia. "Do you understand what it means to be immortal? To never age, or grow, or –"

"She's got to," said Erised. "We need two Keepers." She strode over and put her hands on Ophelia's shoulders. "I'm going to ask you to be very brave,' she said.

Ophelia stared at her, then turned her eyes to Melody's kind, but sad brown eyes and Alecta's piercing green orbs. "I – I don't –"

"It's your choice, Ophelia," Erised told her, pulling away. She picked Alecta off the bed. "Come on, Ally, we're off."

"Off?" said Melody. "Off where?"

"I'm sick of this bloody depressing country," said Erised. "We need a change of scenery. I'm thinking Romania, spend some time with our favorite flying beasts, then back to Holland to steal all of Jasper's sugar-bread…"

"Wait," said Ophelia suddenly, her mind whirling. "So, are you just done fighting? Or is the war over?"

"What are you, new here?" said Erised, opening the door and pushing Alecta out. "Of course it's over."

"Of _course_?" But Erised had shut the door, leaving Melody laughing and Ophelia fuming.

"She's joking," said Melody, clearly amused, but still very pale. "But she's right, it's over."

"And Riddle's gone?"

"Well, for now, at least," said Melody, lying down on the bed.

"What does that mean?" asked Ophelia, very confused.

"Eh, I'll explain later. I'll put some tea on, we'll have a cuppa when you're done dying."

"Right. That," said Ophelia reluctantly.

Melody paused. "If you're not ready, Ophelia, we don't have to do this."

"Oh, for God's sake, yes, we do. And yes, I'm ready. Just let me fix my hair, will you? Don't want to meet the next Keeper looking like I've been raised in a barn."

Melody griped and groaned, but Ophelia felt that since she was the one dying, she got to do some small things that made her feel more comfortable with the prospect. When they finally got outside, Ophelia closed her eyes and felt the October breeze for the last time as a mortal girl.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Everything went black.


End file.
